Tag Archives: humor

“Wail of Sirens”–flash fiction, Difficult People

Wail of Sirens



          Jill’s lesbian lover, Tommie, the “man” in her life, she joked, was stalking her. She was chain-smoking Kools down the street in her Ford pickup right now.

          Yes, a lesbian cousin Eve was visiting Jill’s straight roommate Cassandra, and yes, Cassandra was at work because she was a ball busting investment banker trying to play hardball with the M&A crowd.

          And yes, Eve was a lipstick lesbian like herself…and yes, Eve was beautiful in a Marilyn Monroe classic way…but she also was an out there screenwriter with several indie credits, and yes, yes, there was a definite frisson for Jill when Eve crossed the room, barefoot, a flowered tropical shift hanging mid-thigh revealed beautifully sculptured alabaster legs, coral blue toe and finger nails, thick blonde hair with a mane of luscious curls, and yes, a bosom to die for…

          And yes, okay, Tommie sporting her purple Mohawk maybe didn’t have anything to worry about before the eruption of all those jealous rages, such horrid scenes, nights outside clubs, on sidewalks, in the cab of her truck, windows frosting with their grappling, and the long nights here when Cassandra was on the road, merging and acquiring. It was then Jill and Tommie went at it, no claws barred…and yes, this had also driven them apart…the ugly jealousy.

          And yes….and oh no…there was the knock at the door…as Jill pulled away from Eve’s cherry lips, letting her lean back against the kitchen sink…

          Jill saw it in a flash…lesbians wrestling for her on the front lawn and heard the neighborhood soundtrack, the wail of sirens, for which she would never make an apology.



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“Corn Hairs”–flash fiction from “Difficult People”

Corn Hairs



          The contempt Josh Clark felt for Sandra Stone was off the human scale. Not only had she rejected him, she then spread the word that he was gay: “Well, Josh,” she was reported to have said, “he’s at least bisexual.”

          Remembering no doubt the jungle fucks they had in her friend’s apartment in the City—those “nooners” she tagged them in honor of her philandering philatelist of a father, his rare stamp store only a brief walk from where she was roundly possessed from the hallway to the kitchen table. The high vaulted pale light of Manhattan winters cast a pall of other days, other lovers, other lives.

          The fact was Sandra Stone was an incurable Daddy’s girl and would depend on his musky five o’clock shadowy beard to arouse her desire for new men…men doomed to failure in comparison.

          Josh let out the rumor that Sandra in climax screamed “Daddy! Daddy! Harder, Daddy…Harder!” and the other associated verbalisms issuing from her little deaths of maddening orgasms.

          Josh knew she’d never escape paternal possession of her unless she left Manhattan and that would be like saying: Go, enter the Great American Desert, never to return. Once in fact she tried to take a train to the West Coast to prove her freedom. After hours of endless farming vistas, by the time Sandra hit Chicago, she’d booked a flight from O’Hare to Kennedy.

          “The nightmares of all those yellow corn hairs wriggling against the train windows! I was quite literally suffocating. Oh Josh by Gosh…I’m so happy to be home in dear dear Mannahatta, darling!” etc., in ever greater flourishes of Big Apple theatrics.

          Josh could take no more. He was living in the shadow of the great man with his tiny, expensive stamps. Still, occasionally he longed for Sandra’s Rubenesque curves, her maddening spasms of lust; but with time, Josh found other lovers and came to thank Big Daddy and the silky corn hairs.


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